


Visions and Spectres

by captrogerscarter



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel Secret Wars Battleworlds, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, and steve and tony dealing with it together, because this is the (ot3) friendship of my dreams, canon character death, i needed something that dealt with Rumiko's death, literally everything is AU, sort of, that's the closest tag i can find
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7194425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captrogerscarter/pseuds/captrogerscarter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the death of Rumiko, Steve and Tony are still struggling with the fallout, and it's impact on their relationship.</p><p>20 years after the explosion that takes out St. Louis and a day after failed peace talks, President Stark and General America wake up in the Avengers lobby. </p><p>Together, the four of them might be able to fix the mistakes of the past, and avoid them in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visions and Spectres

**Author's Note:**

> So! This is my submission for the Cap-Iron Man Reverse Big Bang! I was a part of Team Tech, which is THE BEST TEAM, because that team has billiondollarman, who is amazing. Seriously, his art is great, and the best part of this entire project was getting to be friends with him. 
> 
> A disclaimer - literally everything in this is AU. I've been reading Marvel comics for about 5 years. I feel like I'll never be caught up on all the mess that goes on. So everything is AU. Also, sorry about the title. I literally forgot to title it until I opened up the AO3 window. I've been calling it "Let's do the time warp again" for the last couple months.
> 
> Also, you can bet your bottom dollar I'll be writing some OT3 Tony/Steve/Rumiko fic in the future, as well as more 'universes collide' Steve/Tony. This fic spurred about 5 more plot bunnies. It was not intended, but welcome. 
> 
> Finally, thanks to the moderators for all the work they put into this event!!
> 
> My artist is billiondollarman, and you can see all the art and the fanmix (seriously, he's awesome) [here](http://onebilliondelights.tumblr.com/post/145889045185/my-art-for-the-cap-iron-man-reverse-big-bang)!

Tony woke from a bad night’s sleep with a ball sitting heavy in the pit of his stomach, the dream of something better clinging to the edges of his mind before he sat up, remembered where he was. Sometimes, his mind would convince him that the world they’d created was the dream instead, but every morning, he came back to it. 

The feeling didn’t leave as he prepared for the day, a little more diligently than usual. For the first time in what felt like forever, he really watched himself as he shaved and trimmed his goatee, then long after he’d finished rinsing his razor, letting the water run. 

When had he gotten so old? 

He was still handsome, of course - his father had aged well too, and Tony had always taken careful care of his skin, which at least seemed to cancel out whatever damage his alcoholism had caused. But his hair was white (it had been for some long time - stress, the doctor had said) and the lines were set deep in his face. His hands, still calloused, slowly felt a little too soft. Thin, like crepe paper. 

He thought back on Steve, how he’d looked before. Steve avoided the cameras, and when he had to show up, he wore the suit. Tony hadn’t actually seen his face since that last day they'd been together. Did he look the same? Probably did, with the serum, lucky bastard. 

Would Steve think he looked old?

Tony dropped the razor into the sink and shut the water off, avoiding his reflection as he left. 

“Are you ready?” Jen’s voice called from the living room, and he smiled. One of the few good things that had come from this was her friendship. It had formed as they worked together to do the best they could for the Red, and she easily slid to fill some of the space that was left empty, after everything. They’d even tried dating, in the early days, but in the end, they’d worked better without that kind of partnership. 

“After one more cup of coffee,” he said, touching her shoulder briefly as he walked past her to the machine. He held it up in question, and she shook her head, lifting her own travel mug as an answer. Tony poured himself an extra large one, and closed his eyes to sigh at the first sip. He’d need more than this, if he were going to get through the day, but this - this was a good start.

“That’s not actually what I meant,” she continued once he’d opened his eyes again, and Tony’s mouth quirked up in a grin. There wasn’t much he could get past her. “Are you ready to see him?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She watched him through another sip, and he sighed. “But I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Do you think it will actually work?”

“If it doesn’t, it won’t be because of me, but I don’t see how it can while Steve’s still insisting on appointing himself sheriff of the wild west. Their laws are ‘do no harm’ and ‘help when you can’, for fuck’s sake. This, from the guy who used to have a hard on for the Constitution, of all people.”

His rant was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder just as he was gathering steam, and he immediatley slumped, like the line was cut. He turned his head away, staring at the marbling of his countertop as he braced against it with both hands. “What the hell happened, Jen? He used to be so...” 

“I know.” 

They stood like that for a long time, Tony with his head hung and eyes closed, Jen’s hand on his shoulder, waiting. Not for the first time, he wondered if calling it quits with her had been a mistake. Finally, he straightened up and adjusted his tie, squared his shoulders. “I want this, but Steve’s a stubborn bastard. I can’t see that changing, but we’ve still got to try.”

Jen pat his shoulder once before dropping it away, and circled around the counter to pick up her briefcase. “Then let’s try.”

\---

Tony’s heart lept at the sight of Steve, and he hated it for it. He'd come out of the plane to see him standing out there on the tarmac, hands on his hips and looking like not a day had passed as he smiled at something Peter - Christ, Peter - had said. Muscle memory made Tony want to smile along, tease him about that terrible hair cut, but then Steve looked at him. His shoulders set, that crease between his eyebrows forming as his eyebrow knit together as he scowled at Tony in a way that made him willing to bet anything that Steve was itching to punch him in the face. 

They watched as Peter - he couldn't believe how old Peter was now, even as he had watched his daughter grow into a young man without him - greet his family, ecstatic, and as happy as he was to see it, it pained him that they were separated. He and Steve had wanted to protect him, once, and instead, they'd torn his family apart. 

"That was kind," Steve said. He sounded surprised. 

Tony ignored the hollow ache in his chest as he straightened up and smiled. "I'm not a monster, Steve. Now, let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

\---

If it was any consolation, Tony thought, watching Steve storm off, it was that the talks had been going so poorly, they likely would have failed either way. 

He stuck around, even has his security staff urged him to leave. He didn't see the point. Whoever the shooter had been, they'd already accomplished what they'd set out to do - put an end to the peace talks, destroy any chance of reunification. 

He had wanted to prevent more children from dying like her child had, for accountability, to keep it from being used as a way to manipulate superheroes. As he watched them wheel Miriam Sharpe's body out, he had to appreciate that, for all the good intentions he'd had in his life, this one had failed the most spectacularly. 

\---

That night, Tony stood alone in his kitchen, staring out his window as he nursed a glass of cider, letting that act stave off his cravings for a drink. Christ, Steve was so far gone that he fully believed that Tony had tried to have him assassinated. He hadn't even hesitated before accusing him, before declaring war. 

And there would be war. Tony wasn't sure he could do that again. Not just physically - he could still manage the suit, but the older it got, the harder it was to have the power needed to move it - but emotionally. He was tired, and with age came regrets, and he found himself thinking of his former friend more and more. How things could have gone differently, the things he could have changed. If, maybe, he'd ever managed to tell him how he'd felt - how he'd always feel, Tony understood this now- back when the early days, would things would have worked out any differently? He didn't hope that Steve felt the same way - he had once, but not for a long, long time - but maybe he would have understood a little more. Maybe it would have been enough to keep them from each other's throats, or maybe Tony would have felt like he hadn't had to hide so much. 

He'd spent so much time trying to protect Steve so he could keep being the symbol, or, more selfishly, so Steve wouldn't hate him for what had to be done. No wonder Steve thought him capable of anything. Steve might be a stubborn bastard, but this future they lived in? This was a legacy that they'd built together, on the foundation laid by Tony's lies and Steve's anger.

Sometimes he wondered if the world would be better if Steve had stayed in the ice, if the shrapnel had wormed a little deeper into his chest and left him dead that cave.

He set his glass in the sink and took off his tie, dropping it over his chair on the way to bed. He didn't want to sleep, to dream of the people they'd lost or the warmth of Steve's hand on his shoulder. But tomorrow would be more meetings of strategy and the coming war, and he owed it to this country to come in rested and ready, at least as he would ever be. 

He stared at the lights of his city as he drifted off, memories of a smile, a laugh, the way sun reflected off golden hair greeting and pulling him in. In the last moment before sleep took him, one last coherent thought drifted up through the haze. 

I want to go back.

\---

Steve wiped his face with the hem of his sweat-soaked shirt before stripping it over his head and tossing it in the corner. He turned on the shower, a hand under the faucet to test the temperature as he stood, barefoot in gym shorts, waiting for the tap to run hot. He typically kept his showers to military efficiency, but there was nothing he wanted today more than a nice long soak, then maybe down to the labs to see Tony.

Tony. Steve sighed as he shucked his pants and went under the spray, braced his arm against the tile and just let the water was away sweat and relax tight muscles. He didn't know what to do about his friend. In the year since Rumiko's death, Tony had been distant, quieter and subdued with everyone, and understandably. He tried to be there, be supportive. You would think he'd have something to say about loss, after having lost so much himself, but the truth was he'd never been very good with this sort of thing. He never knew what to say, what to do, and by the time he had finished hesitating, it was too late.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the blaring alarms - the mansion's alarms, not the call to assemble. He leapt out of the shower and dried himself just enough to function, tugged on his gym shorts, grabbed his shield, and raced out to the hall. It was only moments before Iron Man was right next to him, faceplate up and raising an eyebrow at Steve's outfit. 

"I was taking a shower," Steve said by way of explanation. "You know what this is about, Shellhead?” 

Tony dropped the faceplate, armor clanking loudly against the floor as he ran, and he shook his his head. It always amazed Steve how expressive the suit could be, even if there wasn't much time for it now. “Intruders in the main lobby, just appeared out of nowhere. Might be teleportation."

"Any word on who?"

"Not yet, Winghead, but I think we're about to find out." 

Steve grinned at the old nickname. There was no time for it now, with intruders in their home, headed into a fight, if the crashes downstairs were anything to go by, but it felt good. The old familiarity, the playfulness of it all...he missed it. Sometimes, Tony was more like himself in a battle. It made him hope that, in time, he would recover, that they both would.

They reached the bottom of the stairwell, Steve brought his shield down in front of him, ready to take on whoever their attacker was...

...only to stop short at the sight of himself.

\---

Tony was only just registering that he wasn’t where he’d fallen asleep when he was attacked.

“What did you do?” his attacker roared at him, and that would be Steve, he'd know that voice anyway. It instantly woke him up, his body trying to push up and away before he was even aware of it, but it was too late. Steve had him pinned to the ground, and pain sung through his body as the punch connected. 

Christ, he’d forgotten how much that hurt. 

Steve shook Tony’s shoulders, making Tony feel something like a rag doll as he yelled again. “Trying to kill me wasn’t enough? What, you missed, so you would take me out of the picture altogether?” 

Tony struggled ineffectually, hoping to either wiggle free or put his hands up in a surrender, but accomplished either. “Steve, you're choking me." he gasped against the forearm against his throat, obstructing his airway. He was right - he definitely was too old for this.

“Maybe I should, since you're so eager to kill me?”

Blood pooled in Tony’s mouth, and he gurgled as he sunk his nails into Steve's arm, trying to force it off enough to turn his head. Just when his vision was beginning to spot, something flew at them, shoved Steve off of him and to the other side of the room. He rolled over to his stomach, coughing and spitting the blood filling his mouth from the punch, forehead against the cold tile of the floor as he struggled to catch his breath. Warm hands helped support him, guided him into a sit.

"Are you alright?"

Christ, had Steve killed him? That was the first explanation he could think of for why Steve would be helping him now lifting his chin, gentle touches along his face and shoulders, searching out injury with a soft, concerned look. Tony had to close his eyes against it, his breath catching 0 he had wanted this, he had wanted it for so long- 

"I need you to open your eyes. Are you going to be alright?" 

Tony forced them open again, and now that his head wasn't swimming, he could make better sense of what was happening. Steve - his Steve, the angry Steve - was fighting someone in the Iron Man suit on the other side of the room. Another Steve, the one out of his memories, was assessing him, and if the way he was holding his shield was anything to go by, itching to join his companion in the fight. 

"Go, I'll be fine," he said, shooing the younger Steve off of him, though he grabbed his wrist again to still him a moment later. "Just- don't hurt him. He's confused."

The younger Steve- Steven, he would have to call him in his head, he decided- looked at him for a long moment, before nodding and joining the fray. Tony just pushed himself back to sit against the wall, one hand against his throbbing temple as he waited for it all to die down.

"Why aren't you fighting him?" Steve roared, struggling against the way he was held back by both Steve and Iron Man, looking every bit a savage dog. "This is his fault!"

"I think you took care of him yourself," Steven said, bracing a shoulder against his chest to keep him back. "You nearly choked him to death." 

Steve gave Steven a disgusted look. "You always were an idiot when it came to him," he spat out, and then he trained his gaze on his Tony, eyes murderous. "He tried to assassinate me!"

"For God's sake, Steve," he said, his voice a soft rasp that made his throat ache to speak. "It wasn't me. I didn't try to have you killed, and if I was trying to get rid of you, do you think I would send you back in time? Or send myself there as well? It's basic logic."

“Everyone just calm down,” Iron Man said, and when it pulled off it’s helmet, it was himself, but so much younger. Steve had stopped struggling, apparently out of shock, as he stared at younger Tony in disbelief. Iron Man loosened his grip, testing, and sighed in relief when Steve didn't try to push his advantage. "Good,” he continued. “Now that everyone’s calm, why don’t you tell us who you are, and why you’re here.”

Tony wiped the blood from his mouth, barely wincing as he pushed himself off of the floor. “I think you know who we are," he said, walking towards them. Steven immediately readjusted his grip on Steve, and Tony gave him a small smile as he kept himself at a more careful distance, which seemed to put this young Steve at ease again. "As for why we’re here-”

“We’re here because he brought us here. I don't know how, but he did, somehow.”

Tony rolled his eyes he couldn't help it,. “Steve, you’re going in circles. I’ll say it again- if I were behind this, then why would I send myself here too.”

Steve just scowled. “Something always goes wrong with you, Tony- you’re so arrogant you always think you’ve thought of everything, so you never see it when you’ve got it wrong.” 

That familiar old pain stabbed in his chest, but he didn’t so much as flinch. Practice makes perfect, but he didn’t think it’d ever stop hurting to hear Steve talk about him like that.

“Look,” Steven interjected, and Tony was grateful that it saved him from having to find a way to respond to that. “I think everyone should just calm down, and first things first, we should take this to the lab to get you both checked out. Your Tony-"

"Don't call him that," Rogers growled, and Tony congratulated himself for keeping his expression blank. 

"Okay, that Tony needs medical attention, and we need rule out that the two of you aren't skrulls before we continue. Understand?"

Steve bristled, and for a moment, Tony thought he was going to resist. Before he could, Steven was quick to add, “I won't ask you politely again.”

Steve’s eyes seemed to consider the situation- the restraint from someone with strength that rivaled his, Iron Man's repulsers aimed steadily at him, in an unfamiliar place- and he could see the resistance drain away, if not the tension. “Fine.” He reminded Tony of a petulant child.

He told Steve as much with a look, getting himself a glare in return, then nodded. “Then I suppose you should lead the way. Though," he glanced around and considered, "I probably remember the way myself."

Younger Tony narrowed his eyes, then relaxed, jerking his head towards the door. “Follow me, then.”

\---

It had only taken Steve a few moments to gather clothes for their alternate versions - even after putting his counterpart in a cell, he didn't feel comfortable leaving him with either Tony for longer than he absolutely had to.

The other Steve just glared at him as he dropped the clothes in his cell, and Steve just turned his back on him to walk to the Tony's. The older Tony- Anthony, Steve figured he'd have to start calling him- was sitting on a stool next to his Tony, rasping out answers to whatever Tony asked as he typed into his computer. Tony's face was focused, eyebrows knit into a line, and it made Steve smile. He'd need to bring down lunch for him, at some point - that face meant that Tony wouldn't be crawling out of the lab for a while.

He stood by Anthony's side as he finished working out a possible theory with Tony, giving him a chance to really look at him. The other Steve had done a number on him- nothing broken, thankfully, but his silk pajamas were torn and heavy bruises bloomed on his jaw form being punched. On his throat, five horrible finger marks were spread across olive skin, and Steve shuddered to realize that if he put his hand there, it would likely be a perfect match. 

He couldn't imagine ever feeling like that about Tony. They'd been mad at each other before, of course, but to want to kill him- his best friend, the person that had helped him through the days after the ice, the person he, if he were honest with himself, that he loved - it just didn't seem possible. And yet, he'd watched himself trying to choke the life out of his best friend, could see the bruises on his face, the way his other self was staring murderously at him right now...

"Steven?"

Steve startled back to awareness to see Anthony looking at him with a sort of fond amusement. "Is those for me?" he asked, gesturing to the clothes in Steve's hand. 

"Oh, uh, yes." Steve handed them over, glancing away. "But first, I'd like to check you out, if that's alright." 

"Certainly," Anthony replied, his eyes twinkling in a way that made him catch on to the second meaning a little too late. Well, at least there wasn't any doubt that it was Tony.

Choosing to try and maintain his dignity by pretend like he didn't notice, he opened up his first aid kit, then started to carefully clean the bruise on his face with an alcohol pad. For the most part, it was all surface damage, but it had broken the skin a little on his jaw. Anthony watched him the entire time - Steve could feel his gaze on him, and when he lifted his eyes, they were greeted bright blue ones, so intense he had to glance away. "Here's an ice pack," he said, putting the cold pack on Anthony's jaw until he brought hand up to do it himself. "I'm going to put something for bruising on your, uh." He gestured vaguely around his throat, and Anthony nodded.

Steve could feel Tony's eyes on him as he spread the bruise salve carefully on Anthony's throat, and he shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed. He wanted to tell Tony that he would never do this to him, he wasn't capable of it, but there it was, proof that he was wrong.

He finished, wiping the leftover salve on his pants as he turned away to let Anthony change. Tony's focus was back on his computer display again, and Steve leaned against the counter, watching a the feed of information that made very little sense to him. "Any leads?"

Tony sighed and shook his head without looking at Steve. "Not really. They're not skrulls, so that's something. They're obviously from the future, but it's just a question of which future - ours, or an alternate universes'. Our counterpart refuses to tell me much about their future-" he punctuated it with a pointed look at Anthony, who just smiled in return, "-but we're both leaning towards alternate universe, since there seems to be a few differences. No clues on how they got here, either. He was asleep, woke up with him on top of him." He gestured vaguely as the other Steve's cage, refusing to look over at him. "Want to try talking to him? I doubt he knows anything, but I can't know for sure, seeing as he won't speak to me."

Steve couldn't help being a little relieved - he wasn't sure he wanted that Steve talking to Tony, either. "I'll see what I can do, Shellhead." He smiled at Tony with the nickname, but when Tony didn't react, it faltered, and he shifted awkwardly. He caught Anthony glancing between them curiously as he buttoned up his shirt, and Steve quickly turned away.

The other Steve was pacing within his small cell - they'd have to move him out of there eventually, but Steve didn't feel comfortable with him wandering around the mansion, either. They'd have to come up with a solution, eventually. 

"Why the hell isn't he locked up too?" Angry Steve growled the moment Steve was close to the cell, and Steve sighed, rubbing his palm against his forehead.

"Because he didn't try to kill anyone. You did." 

"I wasn't going to kill him." Angry Steve grumbled as his eyes slid away, and he dropped into a seat, hands clasped and arms resting heavily on his knees.

"Well, you sure fooled me." Steve crossed his arms against his chest. "Tony wanted to ask me to you if you knew anything about why you're here."

"I don't, but he had something to do with it. He tried to have me assassinated yesterday, and-"

"No, I didn't!" Anthony called back, and Angry Steve stood again, growing read in the face as he visibly prepared to argue back.

"Hey, hey," Steve said, his hands spread between the two of them in a halting gesture. "Everyone calm down. Just." He let out a deep exhale and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just calm down." 

Angry Steve stood and stared at him for a long moment, then leaned in towards Steve, as closely as the energy bars of the cell would allow. "I know you think I'm some kind of monster," he said quietly, his calm almost eerie in relation to everything else they'd seen from him. "That Tony couldn't possibly do anything that would warrant this, so it must be me that's wrong. I know, because I was you. That man," he pointed to Anthony, who was still talking to Tony, "did this to me. He was my best friend, my partner, and now? I hate him. Tony Stark is a liar, he is dangerous, he thinks he knows everything and knows better than anyone else, who'd sell out his friends just to get his way. That man is the worst thing that happened to me, and if you would never trust him, or anything he says."

Steve looked stared at him for a long moment, then glanced back at the two Tonys. Anthony was staring at Angry Steve, only to look away quickly and clear his throat the moment he saw Steve looking. His own Tony was still focused on his work, but every line of his body was drawn and tense, and Steve flared with anger. 

"I don't need to listen to this shit," he growled, unlocking the energy cage and grabbing Angry Steve be the arm. Surprisingly, he went easily, not resisting in the least. 

"You'll see," was all Angry Steve said as he lead him out, and he could feel both Tony's watching him as they went.

\---

Later, he returned with a pair plate of sandwiches, as well as three water bottles. Anthony gave him a brief, pained look as he accepted one, where as Tony just grunted a small thanks as his was set next to him, untouched. 

"He'll eat it when he gets hungry enough," Steve said, moving to stand next to Anthony. 

"I know," Anthony said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a little smile as he started to unwrap his sandwich. Steve blushed and hung his head, shaking it slightly.

"Right, sorry, I just-"

"It's strange for all of us," Anthony reassured, and they ate in silence for a few moments before he added, much more solemnly, "Where did you take him?"

"One of the suites - it's guarded and locked down. He has some tv, a tablet, I brought some art supplies, in case he still does that kind of thing. I'll bring one of the reinforced heavy bags and a treadmill in later." 

"That was kind of you." 

Steve laughed a little ruefully and shrugged. "More like I know how I get when I have to sit still too long, and he's angry enough." 

He expected Anthony to laugh, but instead he just looked sad, nodding slightly. "Well. I didn't attempt to have him assassinated, but he does have reason to be angry at me." At Steve's questioning look, he sighed. "I-We had a fight. A long time ago. I can't....I don't think I can tell you more than that, but...let's just say we both have reason to be angry."

Steve nodded uncomfortably, glancing over to his Tony, who was resolutely staring at the screen, as if he hadn't heard a thing. If Steve didn't know better, he'd have thought he hadn't. 

"Well, why don't I get you settled into a room," he said finally, wrapping up his sandwich and standing. 

"I would like a shower," Anthony said with a nod, and he took his food as well as he headed for the door. 

Steve began to follow, but Tony snatched his elbow and tugged him back, waiting until Anthony was toward the door. "I don't know that we should let him just wander around, Steve." Steve opened his mouth to argue, and Tony hushed him with an impatient look. "Listen, maybe that other Steve had it wrong, but something happened, and it was bad enough that it made you feel that way about me." 

"I'm not him," Steve protested, his voice stronger than he meant it to be.

"No, but you used to be." Tony gave him a long look, then sighed. "I just think we shouldn't be so quick to trust him, is all." 

"I'll keep an eye on him," Steve reassured. He started to cover Tony's hand with his own, but paused, unsure. Before he could decide, it was gone, and Tony had gone back to busily typing away. 

He headed over to Anthony, who raised an eyebrow, glancing back to Tony. "Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine." He touched Anthony's shoulder, and was surprised, then smiled at the way he leaned into it. "Come on, let's find you somewhere to stay."

\---

It was eerie, being back in the old house. The image in his mind had faded in time, but it all came leaping back at the reminders- the way he’d designed everything himself, the times he’d spent here with the team, and especially the moments he’d spent with Steve. It wasn’t a perfect replica, though, making both him and his younger counterpart lean more and more on the idea that this was an alternate universe, rather than simple time travel (and what was his life, that time travel was considered ‘simple’) and making the whole experience even more jarring with every subtle difference. The feeling of looking at a reflection, but knowing something was wrong, even if you couldn't put your finger on exactly what it was.

He touched a vase as he walked past, letting the soft porcelain glide over his fingertips. He remembered the vase, but it’d never been here for him. His mother had loved it while he hated it, and he’d debated for days over whether to display it. Finally, he’d decided to move it into storage, unable to part with it completely, but not wanting to look at it either. Apparently this Tony had been a more dutiful son. 

He felt like a ghost, stuck somewhere he didn’t belong anymore, and the new owners were walking around, touching his stuff. It wasn’t a good feeling.

The soft clearing of a throat brought him out of his thoughts, to see Steve watching him with his eyebrows raised. He suddenly realized he’d been staring at the vase for several minutes, and he felt slightly warm - he’d gotten rid of shame a long long time ago, but he found himself so eager for this Steve’s approval that he found it rearing it’s head again. As if he could have a second chance, if he could just keep this one liking him. Apparently, a part of his brain hadn’t gotten the memo that they weren’t staying.

“Everything alright?” Steve prompted, shifting his weight a little uncomfortably. It was nice to see that he didn’t know exactly what to do with this situation either.

Tony flashed him an small smile, and gestured at the vase. “I put this vase in storage before becoming Iron Man. It took me by surprise, to see it out.”

Steve chuckled, his face lighting up with recognition. “Oh, right- Tony hates that old thing. Complains how ugly it is every time he sees it. Never could figure out why he didn’t do the same thing.” 

“It was my- our mother’s.” Realization quickly settled into discomfort on Steve’s face, and Tony took pity on them both by changing the subject. “Going to sketch?” he asked, nodding to the sketchbook in his hand. 

Steve glanced at it and nodded, rubbing his neck almost shyly. He had never gotten tired of the way Steve seemed almost bashful about doing anything that he’d love in the days before he was Captain America- the things that were just Steve. It was sweet, almost. 

“I-yeah. Well, maybe. Not really sure what I want to do, but I’m itching to do something.”

Tony remembered that too- the way he had seemed almost allergic to inactivity. It used to drive him insane, the way he would wish Steve would just relax. Even the rare vacations, he was always jumping up to explore or find something to read. He sometimes wondered if it were the serum that made him fidgity, or a childhood of being unable to do the things he wanted. 

Not that Tony could complain, when he usually spent the same vacations with a StarkPad in his hand, sketching out blueprints and ideas for fun.

Which, speaking of- “I know how you feel,” he admitted, with a hint of a wry smile. “I haven’t been able to find much to do myself, but I’m not sure it’s a great idea for me to go out.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed, the way he always did when he was trying to work out a solution. “I bet it wouldn’t be too hard,” he said, and he touched Tony’s elbow to pull him along, only to let go just as quickly, that Irish flush heating up his cheeks. Tony followed him, trying not to smile, until he found himself being put into Steve’s bathroom. 

Shave cream and a fresh razor were pulled out of the cabinet, and Tonly looked at him skeptically. “Do you really think-”

“Just hear me out. Between the gray-” he stopped, like he was worried he’d said something rude, but at Tony’s amused look, he continued, only slightly redder than before. “Between that and the glasses, you don’t look exactly the same. The goatee is a dead giveaway, though. Shave that and get maybe a different shirt, I bet it’d work.” Tony looked at him, unconvinced, and Steve let out an exasperated sigh, though a smile was tugging at the edges of his mouth. “Look, you want to go out, right? This is the best way to do it.” Another pause- at this point, Tony was just making him work for it, but it worked. “Look, if you do it, we’ll go out to that sandwich place you like, with the sopressata? I’m buying.”

“You’d have to, I doubt my cards work here.” Still, he picked up the can and shook it, and it was worth it for the big grin that Steve shot at him before leaving to go get him some clothes. “I guess it’s better than going blonde,” he muttered as he began to later his face.

Tony got started on his goatee, trying not to judge Steve too much for his disposable razor - maybe he didn’t get razor burn, but it still wasn’t acceptable. It was...almost uncomfortable, how well they got along together - they were similar enough to what they knew about their counterparts for it to be easy, but time made it so that there was enough difference that it wasn’t like looking in a mirror. God knew that his Steve was nothing like his old self anymore, and Tony felt a stab of guilt for that. He’d accepted, in time, that they both shouldered the blame for everything that’d happened, but he’d never stopped feeling guilty that in a large part, it was his betrayal, perceived and otherwise, that had irreparably changed his old friend.

By the time he finished his task, Steve had returned with clothes. They fit, so Tony thought it was better he didn’t ask where he’d gotten them, but they were nice, but not so nice and casual enough that he wouldn’t stand out. “How do I look?” he asked, and there was a little self deprecating grin as he added, “I refuse to get rid of the mustache, but what do you think? Good enough to be your grandpa?”

Steve rolled his eyes and pushed at Tony’s shoulder, but his smile was soft and fond. “You always look nice, Anthony, you know that. And you're not that old.” 

“The knowing becomes a little less certain when the wrinkles begin to set in,” Tony shot back with one raised eyebrow, and he pat Steve’s cheek, teasingly and just enough to sting, “Not that you have to worry about it. But thank you for the flattery.”

He smirked as squeezed past Steve, who was rubbing his cheek and watching him a little sheepishly. “Now, are you buying me that sandwich or not?”

\---

"I missed this," Anthony said as they strolled through the park. It was getting late, evening joggers and dogs out for the last walk of the night going around them as they wandered aimlessly. They'd lingered over dinner, talking, but not about anything important. Reminiscing, at first, but the later it got, it turned to different topics like books and history, and they're thoughts in general. It was like talking to Tony and that made him feel guilty, because he had missed this. They went out sometimes, talked, ate lunch, but it was off. 

This was off too, this version of Tony - he was quieter, different in a way Steve couldn't put his finger on exactly. More mature, but that made sense. But while both Tony's were different than he was used to, this one wasn't surrounded by feelings of insecurity, feelings that Steve didn't know what to do with. It made him more comfortable - something he didn't necessarily like, there was a twinge of guilt every time he laughed, every time he brushed his hand on Anthony's shoulder. But he'd missed this, so much. He'd been lonely. He had other friends, of course - good ones. But Tony had been the first, and the closest. Maybe he'd leaned a little too heavily on that in his recovery, but he was a little lost without it now.

Not to mention his own feelings towards the loss of Rumiko. It'd been hard for him, to see Tony with someone else, but it'd been easier to put aside at seeing how happy his friend was, how perfect they were together. In time, the two of them had been friends as well. He'd harbored some guilt during their relationship, but it was nothing compared to the guilt after her death. Every time he tried to comfort Tony, tried to help move him past the loss, there was that voice in his head, questioning his motives, if he were just trying to move into the empty place he'd left behind.

"Is everything alright, Steven?" Anthony's hand was warm on his shoulder, his thumb lazily tracing back and forth. He watched Steve over his glasses, one eyebrow raised, all warm concern. 

"I-what? Sorry, I think I got lost in my thoughts for a minute there." He rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly, but Anthony just shook his head and gave him a soft smile. 

"I could tell. All I said was that I missed this."

Anthony's hand hadn't moved away, and when Steve found himself leaning into it, he didn't pull away.

"Yeah. I guess I have, too."

\---

Steve rapped his knuckles on the wall of the lab as he walked in, sighing slightly at the sight that greeted him. Tony was still working on his computers, his expensive button down disheveled and dirty, sleeves rolled up and top several buttons undone. His hair was a mess, the curl starting to work back in as the product had worn out, his stubble grown back enough to obscure the usually sharp lines of his goatee. 

"I brought you some food," Steve tried again, when Tony didn't answer him. From this close, he could smell the coffee on Tony - not just on his breath, but from his pores. He set the to-go cup of water a little closer than he normally would.

Tony tore his eyes away from his work after another long moment, and they flicked quickly from the cup, the to go container, the nicer button down Steve had worn with a pair of slacks, then at Steve himself. "You went out?"

"Anthony was stir crazy." Tony blinked, then trained his eyes on the screen again, typing a little faster now. Steve sighed, took a breath. He didn't know how to read these things anymore, but Tony seemed to want him to leave. He tried not to take it personally, again. "I got you that sandwich you like. You should eat."

Tony glanced at it for just half a second once Steve opened the box, but just went back to his work. "I will. Later. I need to finish this."

Steve smiled just a little - it wasn't like he'd expected anything else. At least he'd agreed to eat eventually. "Alright. Make sure you do."

He stood around for another long minute before starting to leave, but something stopped him again. The way Anthony's hand felt on his shoulder, of how it used to be his. How much Anthony clearly missed him - missed his own version, but they had apparently been very close to the same person, once. That, maybe, Tony missed him just as much. That as uncomfortable as he felt, he was going to have to be the one to make the effort here - an effort that was very worthwhile. 

"Hey Tony?" he asked, and refused to be put off when the flicker of a glance over to him was the only indication that he'd been heard. "Do you want to go get lunch with me tomorrow?"

Tony stopped working altogether, staring at Steve with wide eyes for just a moment, and then he was back to his work, with a focus that was almost determined. "No," he said, sharply enough that it cut, just a little. 

"Oh," Steve said, not entirely able to keep the hurt out of his voice. "I-okay. Sorry." 

"No, I just." Tony seemed to struggle for works, then sigh. "I just have a lot of work I need to do, Steve."

"No, it's fine. I'll...see you later, then." 

Steve could feel eyes watch him as he left, but Tony didn't say anything, so neither did he.

\---

"Do you mind if I join you?" 

Steve looked startled as he glanced up, and Tony smiled, a small bittersweet pang pulling in his chest. He was sketching, just like he used to find him, those nights where neither of them could sleep. Sometimes, after the bad days, he had a feeling that Steve went here on purpose, either with the hopes that Tony would find him or with the suspicion that Tony would wind up there himself. That Steve had ended up here told him that these two likely did the same, though his surprise seemed to suggest he hadn't expected anyone to show. 

"Sure, of course." Steve moved some of his art supplies aside, making space at the end of the table at the same corner as him. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No, I'm afraid my brain wouldn't have it. Though, I would hazard to guess that none of us have gotten much rest since my counterpart and I showed up here." He paused, then added, "How is he doing, by the way?"

"Still angry. We opened up the wing to him. I tried to talk to him, but he just said not to - well. He said the same things he's been saying, and then told me to leave when I wouldn't listen." 

"Ah, yes, well." Tony sighed, and smiled, a little teasing, despite it all. "You always were stubborn. Not that he doesn't have good reason to be angry with me." 

Steve laughed a little sheepishly as he hung his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, you're not wrong." There was a short, heavy silence as Steve looked down at his drawing, and at his hands, fiddled with his pencils. He looked so young, made Tony feel that young again. Like it was something he had just fallen back into, so easily that it was hard to remember that this wasn't his. That his Steve was one story up, probably pacing and furious, so sure that Tony had attempted to murder him. 

Steve opened his mouth to talk, still wrestling with the words, even though Tony knew what he was going to ask before he even managed. "Can I ask what happened?" he finally got out. "Not- I know you can't tell me what exactly, but I just- I don't want to be...that. I don't ever want to be like that." 

There was an edge of fear in his voice, and Tony recognized it. It was the voice of someone who'd just seen the ghost of Christmas Future, and was desperate to avoid that fate. He wanted to reassure Steve that he wouldn't come to that, that he would never be like that - he had, back in the old days. Sometimes, in those late nights together, Steve confessed to the anger he felt, the rage of the life he'd been forced to leave behind, the future he'd been dragged into unwillingly and asked to fight for, that he'd always felt, a sickly young child, young man, who kept being told no, who grew up poor and hungry, who kept seeing injustice and wanted to do something about it. Of how sometimes he was afraid of it, that it would eat him whole. Tony remembered clearly what he used to say - that it never would, that he was too good, and Steve would say that as long as he had a friend like Tony to steer him straight, he knew he never would.

In the end, they'd just driven each other to the worst. Tony knew he'd never forgive himself for that. 

"There was a war, but it wasn't about the war. I thought it was, at the time, but...it was about more than that. He felt betrayed. I tried to keep things from him - for his own good, I thought, but I know now, I didn't want to explain. Not until it was too late. I'm not sure he ever knew my reasons, not even now. That I was doing what I had to. I could see it coming - I'm a futurist, Steven. I always see it coming, when no one else does, and I try...I try to stop it, but you can never stop the future, you can only...shape it. You can try and contain the damage. So that's what I tried to do, but I never told you. I didn't think you'd believe me, or I didn't want you to hate me - I don't even know, anymore. But we should have talked. We never talked."

Tony's eyes burned, and he had to look away, to clear his throat and dig his thumb and forefinger into the corner of his eyes, trying to physically stop it, just long enough to regain control. "I swear, Steve, I was only trying to do what was right. I was trying to do the right thing." 

He turned his head away, and then there was warm arm pulling him into a broad chest. Something inside him, the part of him he so carefully kept together, broke, and he pressed his face into Steve's shirt, shoulders held steady by strong warms through shaking sobs. "It wasn't worth it," he got out, his hands gripping tight into the fabric, enough that his knuckles turned white, and as a hand passed through his hair, he shuddered. "I'm so sorry, Steve. It wasn't worth it." 

They stayed like that for a long time, until Tony felt wrung out, eyes feeling like gravel, but lighter than he had in longer than he could remember. He sighed deeply, and Steve lifted his chin, pulled a handkerchief out of somewhere - that had always made him laugh, the way he always seemed to have one on him, even after all this time. 

"Come here," Steve said quietly, drying Tony's face, holding his chin carefully. When he was finished, he stroked his cheek with his thumb and gave him a small smile. "There. Better?"

Tony searched his eyes for a long moment, then, slowly, brought one hand to Steve's neck, cupping his jaw. Steve closed his eyes and leaned into it, sighed, and that - that was everything he'd ever wanted, right in his hand. 

Tony may have kissed him first, but Steve didn't waste any time joining it, in tugging him up out of his chair and out of his shirt. It was needy and desperate and stupid, he knew it was stupid, but he didn't care, and when Steve was falling back on the couch, pulling Tony down with him, he didn't see why he should.

\---

Later, as he lay against Steven's chest, waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal, he traced his fingers up and down Steve's arm and tried not to think about anything else. He'd give this up in just a few moments, they'd have to deal with this, but, just for a moment, he wanted to stay in it. Just for a little while longer.

Steven, it seemed, had other ideas, but he was never one for inaction. "We probably shouldn't do that again," he said, even as he was tracing his hand up and down Tony's spine. 

"We probably shouldn't have done it that time," Tony said with a little bit of his chuckle, and Steven returned it. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Maybe. I don't-" He sighed. "I feel a little guilty," he admitted, but he at least had the decency to look sheepish about it. "But I felt guilty before, so."

"Guilty?" Tony leaned up to look Steven in the face. "Why? Before, I mean, not now." 

Steven sighed and tugged at his hair - already a complete mess, and Tony didn't bother to smother the small flare of pride he felt at that. This was all he'd ever get, and he shouldn't have even had that, so he sure as hell was going to savor it. "I- well. Rumiko...she died, a little over a year ago."

Tony closed his eyes, just for a moment, at her name. The name had dulled over time, but Christ, he missed her, so much. 

But Steven continued, so he opened them again, listened attentively. "I thought - before they met, I thought maybe we were moving towards something. I...well, I guess it's obvious now, how I feel. But...they met, and they were great together, and I was happy for them. She became my friend too. And then...well. And then she died, and Tony...he's had a hard time. I'm not- I'm not good with, well, feelings, I guess. Never been good at talking about these things. And every time I do - those feelings, the ones I had for him, they never left, so every time I try, I don't know. I worry...it feels like maybe I'm trying to move in. But I didn't want this to happen, I never would have wanted this, not at her expense. So it feels wrong, and we feel wrong, and I don't..." 

Steven sighed, scrubbed his face with his hand, stared up at the ceiling. "I want to help him, but I feel selfish, and guilty, and everything I try to do or try to say comes out wrong. I miss him, and it's worse because I know he's got to be hurting, and I don't now what to do."

Tony sighed, and ran his hand in soothing circles on his hip. "Well, I can tell you this," he said, quietly. "He - we always want you around, Steve. I can't tell you what he's feeling, because I don't now, not exactly. Our experiences have been different, I don't want to tell you something that's wrong. But I can tell you that, no matter how I acted towards my Steve, no matter how much I pushed him away, there was never a time I didn't want him around." He laughed and pat Steven's arm. "And I'll go ahead and tell you, if he's anything like me? Well. You can love more than one person at once, Steven. That's all I'll say."

Steven glanced away, bashful, it made Tony smile, even as it hurt. It was too late for him and Steve, he knew that, but maybe these two would get it together, be what they couldn't. 

Which meant this was his cue to step aside. He smiled and pat Steve's shoulder, started to sit up with a groan. "C'mon, up. I'm too old for this."

Steven rolled his eyes, even as he helped Tony up. "You're not old, Tony." 

"Sure, sure." 

They dressed quietly, both glancing away, somewhat shy now that it was over, but as he buttoned his shirt, Steve did glance over his shoulder. "You know," he said quietly, hesitantly, like he wasn't sure he should. "You should maybe tell your Steve, all those things you told me."

Tony looked away, fixed the cuff of his sleeves, swiped a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he said, his voice so soft, it was practically to himself. "I think maybe I should."

\---

"So, is it a silver fox thing?" 

Steve, who'd been crossing the living room on his way to a post-run shower, stopped short, looked around for the voice. Tony was sitting on the couch, looking clean, but haggard. There were deep bruises under his eyes, and he looked so sad, in a way separate from exhaustion. Steve wanted to ask what was wrong, but, with a sinking feeling, he suspected he knew. 

Still, he asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, is this a fetish thing? Someone more your own age, Steve? Because, I've been - we - we've been friends for years, Steve, and I just, I don't - it's been years, and I thought it just wasn't me, but then he's here for three days and you crawl into bed with him?" His voice was pained, and he was scrambling for his words. Steve had never heard him like this before, not sober. To know he'd been the cause only made it worse to hear.

Still, in his shock, the only question he could come up with was out before he could stop it. "How did you know?"

"I saw you!" His voice was ragged, and he crossed his arms tight against his chest, refused to look at Steve. "I was going back to my room, and I saw the two of you leave the library. I just - why him, Steve? I thought it was me, but I don't- I don't understand. Why he was better than me." 

Steve swore under his breath and moved quickly to the couch, put his hands on Tony's shoulders. Held on when Tony pushed at them, not tight enough for force him, just enough to show he wasn't going to move away. "He's not better, Tony. I just - I was lonely, and he was there - we didn't mean for it to happen, Tony. I'm sorry if it made you feel like that, I promise, you're not better, and it's not happening again." He paused to take a deep breath, close his eyes, let it out slow. "We...we both know we're not who the other wanted." 

He opened his eyes to look at Tony meaningfully, hold his gaze as realization spread across his features. "But you...Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Steve sighed and sat down, gently bringing Tony down to sit next to him. "I always meant to. Eventually. Kept working up to it. But then you met Rumiko-" he gripped Tony's shoulders tighter, comforting, at the pain that flashed at her name. "And you two...you were great together, Tony. You were happy, I wasn't...I couldn't get in the way of that. I didn't want to. And then, after...I knew you'd need time, and I- I cared about her too, Tony. It didn't seem right. It didn't feel right, to try and be with you, even if you were ready to move on, because I'd know the only reason I had a chance was because she wasn't here. I'd feel like, I don't know. Like I was betraying her, by trying to replace her."

Tony actually laughed at that, his voice watery, and he had to clear his throat before he could speak. "You could never replace her, Steve. No one could. She was...brilliant. I'll always love her, Steve, for the rest of my life, and I feel guilty too, but she wouldn't...She would have never wanted me to live like this. And I'm trying, and I need more time, but." He laughed again and sniffed before looking up at Steve with a rueful smile. "Come on, Steve. You must have known how I felt."

Steve cleared his throat and stared at his hand, a small smile breaking through. "I-no. Sometimes I thought, maybe, but. No. I thought maybe I was imagining it. But...even before?" 

Tony took Steve's hand, clasped it between his own. "Yes, Steve. And during." His smile became a little mischievous, if still sad. "She knew how I felt about you, you know." 

Steve's glanced up quickly, eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. "What? Really?"

"Yeah." He laughed and nodded. "She told me I should invite you over for a threesome sometime."

Steve couldn't help it. It was so like her that it hurt, and he found himself laughing, even as his face was bright red and his eyes were tearing up. He dragged Tony in against him, wrapped him up in a tight embrace as Tony laughed too. 

Once they'd calmed down, they stayed there for a long time, Tony's head on his shoulder, Steve rubbing circles into his back and pretending not to notice as Tony wiped his eyes. 

"So...you want to do this?" he asked finally. 

Tony leaned back just enough to look up, and sighed. "Look, Steve. It's...It'll take me some time, to be completely ready. But if you can be patient with me, and if we take things slow, then - yeah. I do want this." 

"Of course, Tony." He cupped Tony's cheek, and the way Tony smiled, it made him feel warm all over. "I'm not going anywhere, and we can take all the time you need. Even if you can't, I just. I care about you, Tony. I just want to be there for you, how ever you need." 

Tony smiled all the warmer, and then he leaned in. The kiss was nothing like the one with Anthony - it was soft, chaste, and it felt right. Completely right.

They pulled away after a moment, still smiling shyly when a throat cleared behind them. Steve cringed even as they both turned to look - there was Anthony, looking somber. It was what Anthony had told him to do, but still, he felt a twinge of guilt, and Tony looked extremely uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Anthony said, and Steve felt a little better by the way he did actually sound sorry. "But I thought you would both prefer it if I asked for one of you to let me into my Steve's wing, rather than hack my way in. I think that it's time he and I had a little chat." 

\---

It took some convincing for Steven to leave them alone, even going so far as to suggest putting Steve back in his cell, but finally (and with the agreement to vitals monitoring through the house system) he'd been able to convince him. As far as safety was concerned, it likely wasn't a bad idea, but he needed Steve to listen, and that wasn't going to happen if they put him on the defensive.

He didn't want to listen anyway, of course. Sat there on the edge of his bed, hands clinched into fists, refusing to look at him. With everything that happened over the last few days, it felt tragic, even more than it had before. This had been preventable, they just failed to do so.

"Steve. We need to fix this." 

"Stop talking to me like I'm an angry child, Tony," Steve growled out, looking at him for the first time since he'd come in the room with an angry glare. "I saw how you tried to fix this. It hasn't been working out for me so far." 

"For fuck's sake, Steve!" Tony tugged at his hair, because they were still here, and he didn't know how to get Steve to go past this. The entire future, if they ever got there, depended on Steve getting past this. And he had no idea how to get him there.

He took a breath, sat down in chair. Tried to keep his voice calm, without being patronizing. "Steve," he began, carefully. "I've made a lot of mistakes. So have you. We've started fighting for what we believe in, but I think...somewhere, we started fighting each other, instead. And can't- we can't keep doing that, Steve. We just tear everything apart around us, and it has to stop."

"It's too late for this." Steve's fists gripped tighter, and if he'd been holding onto anything, Tony was sure it'd have snapped. "You'd say anything to get me to believe you're not a murderer."

Tony sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "I know it's too late, Steve." He stared at the floor for a long time. It was time to just lay all his cards on the table - it wasn't like he had anything left to lose. "Don't you know I love you, Steve? Even after...everything, this thing we've turned ourselves into. I could never kill you. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that sooner, I'm sorry that I've behaved in a way that would make you think I was capable of that. But I swear to you - I walked in to those talks with every peaceful intention, every hope we could succeed, and I didn't try to kill you. If there's anything that can get you to believe that, I'm willing to do it. But don't start another war, Steve. We can't put everyone through that again." 

Steve refused to look at him, he just looked at his hands. They weren't clinched in fists anymore, just folded in his lap. Tony waited, silently, for minutes. 

Just when Tony thought that he'd wasted his time, "There'll be an investigation." 

"Of course," Tony said immediately, leaning in just a little. "Whatever you need, Steve."

"If it was a third party," he continued, "then someone wants this war to happen, and they need to be stopped. And if it was you?" Steve looked up, his gaze hard as he stared straight into Tony's eyes. "I'll kill you myself." 

Tony nodded without hesitation. "Well," he said, and he offered out a hand. "That's better than I was expecting." 

Steve considered him for a moment, then took his hand, and they shook.

\---

Tony woke up, feeling more rested than he had in a long time. He sat up slowly and, as he caught sight of the sleeve of his pajama shirt, the one Steve had ripped, he went still. He was in his room, in his bed, and a quick check of his phone confirmed the date - the day after the failed peace talks.

Just another dream.

The phone, still in his hand, lit up and rang. The number had no ID, but he already knew the number.

"Steve?" 

There was a short pause on the other end of the line, then - "Was it real?"

Tony let out a deep sigh of relief, shoulders sagging. "It was real." 

Another pause, this time long enough that, for a moment, Tony thought he'd hung up. Then, "Have your secretary call mine. We'll set up a video conference to discuss that investigation." 

"Sure, alright. I'll let you know." 

He was just about to end the call, but then Steve added, all in a rush - "Do you think they'll be alright?" 

Tony thought back to how Steven and his Tony had looked together, hugged close against each other, smiling, laughing. They'd been beautiful. And they knew, now. What they could be, if they weren't careful. 

"Yeah," Tony said finally. "I think they'll be fine."

 

** CODA **

The bomb had to be detonated manually, because of course it did, because nothing ever just ended well, the way they were supposed to.

And of course, Steve was going in. 

So of course, Tony was with him.

It was appropriate, that they'd die like this, fighting side by side. Honestly, if you had asked Tony, he couldn't imagine any other way he'd rather go. 

He just wished Steve hadn't had to go with him. 

As the skrulls closed in, Tony looked up, could see them all flying - their Avengers, fighting alongside one another. There'd be reunification now. Whatever they left behind, they'd managed this - to fix it, the best they could.

"Look at them all," he said quietly, through the private comm, right in Steve's ear. 

"Beautiful heroes," Steve agreed, and no, he changed his mind, this was how he wanted to go, with Steve's voice, soft and determined, quiet in his ear. "Every damn one."

Steve pulled the trigger.

\---

It really worked. 

Tony watched from the corner of the room Steve made his way through the stack of papers. He’d been at it for hours, committing every name to memory, and Tony thanked all the scientists that worked on him that he’d been granted a photographic memory with the serum. After they were done here, the papers would be incinerated. They were still working on long term solutions, and Tony had already upped the security for the inevitable target this would make him, but it was something, and it was sure as hell better than the alternative. 

And, Christ, they’d been so close to the alternative. Despite their relationship, despite the literal ghost of Christmas future come to warn them about their fate, they’d been so close to jumping over that ledge. It seemed almost unreal, to be sitting here keeping Steve company as he poked at his Starkpad, relaxed and mildly bored, of all things, after how close it’d come. After what Tony had feared would come.

Steve turned the last page and exhaled deeply before pulling himself into a deep stretch. “All set?” Tony asked, and Steve nodded, taking the papers and dumping them into the small incinerated Tony had brought along. It made quick work of the files, then locked itself, just in case. He’d dispose of it as well, later.

But for now, he stood and put his hands on Steve’s shoulders, kneading them. Steve let his head roll forward with an appreciative groan, and Tony felt the tension slowly sink out of him. Slowly, Steve turned and tugged Tony; he went in easily, let himself be pulled against the heavy bulk of him and rest his head against his shoulder. His fingers grasped at Steve’s shirt tightly and he closed his eyes, slowly breathing him in and out. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to losing this. 

Steve kissed the top of his head before settling his chin on top, and hugged him tight, one hand making small circles between his shoulder blades. “Hey, Shellhead?” he said after a moment, his voice soft and low.

Tony looked up, and smiled back when he saw Steve smiling down at him. “Yeah, Winghead?”

Steve brought a hand up to cup his cheek, and looked at him, so warm and full that Tony felt his heart swell. “I’m glad we worked this one out.”

Tony leaned in to kiss him, soft, and passed a hand through Steve's hair. “Yeah, me too.”


End file.
